Their Last Stand
by Sagebush
Summary: - And only now did they call, plead, beg for his help, when now he couldn't help. - The other half of Writing On The Wall. They are trapped at Morgana's, Morgouse's, Alvarr's, and Mordred's mercy.


_**An: I had some writers block, but I think I overcame it when I wrote this. Will write some TBTS and SIM now. Sorry for not posting in a while!**_

_**This is a sort of follow on from 'Writing On The Wall'. You don't have to read both, but you can if you want. I know some of the facts in this don't add up to WOTW but hey, the story wrote itself.**_

_**It's in Gwaine's point of view, randomly, and I have no idea how good this is.**_

_**Please, please, please, review. Your opinion matters, and tells me if I should change anything.**_

* * *

_They are coming._

Gwaine carved the words into the stone in a desperate attempt to distract himself. If the wall survived, then it would also tell others what had happened. He lowered his sword, reading what he had written so far. It would do.

He turned, surveying the others in the room. Arthur sat slumped in his throne. His crown was lying on the floor, where it had been thrown. His head was in his hands in a vain attempt to hide the fact he was crying. Lancelot leaned against the wall with Gwen sat next to him. They shared quiet, heartfelt words.

Leon and Percival were guarding the door, as if it would do any good. They didn't speak, just glared at the massive piece of wood that had been barricaded as bets it could.

Elyan paced, with a slightly lost expression on his face. His cape billowed out behind him dramatically. Gaius was standing by himself in a corner, wringing his hands, muttering to himself. All of them were covered in dust, grime, and blood.

"Well, this wasn't how I imagined I would die," Gwaine said to break the atmosphere. "I imagined a home, a woman, and some alcohol."

Elyan had the good grace to laugh, even if it was only a little one, and sounded slightly manic. Arthur it seemed, wasn't in the mood. He lifted his head and spoke for the first time in hours.

"Gwaine, please," he said. "Just don't."

And there. Stop the play for a moment; this was where it was wrong. Here was where Merlin would step forward and say something about Arthur being a depressed prat, and how he should at least go to his grave laughing - or something equally comical, sinister, and funny.

But he wouldn't. Couldn't. Because he wasn't here.

Gwaine felt the empty hole inside him open up again as he remembered his best friend. It had only been a year since he had left, since he had run away after Arthur pointed a sword at his throat, when the truth came out. And already Camelot had fallen, and only in hindsight could they realise how important Merlin had been to all of their well beings.

Arthur seemed to notice the silence, and why it was there, and stood up suddenly, joining Elyan in pacing. Gwaine followed his movements with his eyes, without turning his head.

There had been no word; nothing. They didn't know if the warlock was even still alive.

And only now did they call, plead, beg for his help, when now he couldn't help. All of a sudden, he realised how quiet it was.

The screams had stopped. So had that ever present rumbling that made the ground shake. But in the absent of these, the stench of death, blood, and destruction hung in the air and stunk like never before. Without conscious thought, all the knights moved to stand next to each other, Gaius and Gwen moving to the back. Percival and Leon stayed by the door, but they had tensed themselves slightly more, accepting the situation with quiet understanding.

With a loud _bang!_ the doors flew open. Morgause strode in, closely followed by Morgana. Behind them both came Mordred and Alvarr.

There was a loud yell as the doors slammed into Percival and Leon, then they fell quiet. Unconscious or dead.

"So, Arthur Pendragon, we meet again."

Morgause's voice was smoothas she used a hand to flatten her dress. It was blood red; possibly to hide the stains that covered it. If that was the desired effect, it hadn't worked. Her blond hair had been pulled back harshly, and she wore no make up.

Morgana on the other hand, had opted for a dark, heavy, purple dress. Her hair was loose, and she wore heavy make up that was probably meant to look intimidating, but only managed make her looked depressed and tired. Mordred had followed suit with the dark clothes, but obviously wore no make up.

Alvarr was the only one who looked normal.

"Come out of your hole?" Arthur asked. "Now that there's no-one here to stop you?"

Morgause sneered. "Merlin was pathetic excuse for a servant." she said. "It is both a blessing and a curse you scared him from your side,"

"I didn't scare him away!" Arthur retorted. "He'll come back,"

An elegant raised eyebrow from Morgana. "Really?" she asked coolly. "If he was coming, I'd have thought he'd be here by now. The place isn't that hard to miss,"

Gwaine glared at her. "You don't know the first thing about Merlin,"

"Oh, I think I do. He can betray his friends without a second thought. He will kill and murder to get what he wants. He will let others be killed to save himself. He is pathetic, saving Camelot again and again, but always letting someone else take the credit, and then running away when his master finds out." she paused to smirk. "Oh yes, I like to think I know a lot about Merlin."

Stepping forwards, Mordred gave everyone present a calculating look. "Never the less," he said. "We would be best to kill them in case Emrys _does_ come."

"Emrys?" Arthur asked, a frown forming on his face.

Morgause chuckled gleefully. "Emrys is the greatest sorcerer of all time, destine to unite all of Albion."

"And who is this Emrys? Why have I never met him?"

Mordred spoke again, his big eyes staring at Arthur. Gwaine couldn't help but shiver at his voice. "You have. He has a second name; Merlin."

Arthur stepped back in shock. "No," he mumbled.

"It's true." Morgana smiled. "But he seems to fail a lot of things doesn't he? He failed to kill me, when he tried. He failed to save his father, his mother. He failed to save Ealdor. He failed to help me when I discovered my magic. He failed in keeping Camelot safe. He failed in keeping his secret. Worst of all, he failed his destiny."

"What do you mean his father and his mother? What happened to Ealdor?" Gwaine burst out.

"Merlin's father was Balinor. Cenred's men destroyed his village for harbouring a sorcerer without telling anyone. In Escetia, the king likes to have all sorcerers under his power for his own use. So, in a sense, he is a murderer."

"No!" Arthur roared, charging forwards, sword held high. His face was red and twisted, his eyes puffy from crying. Morgana raised her hand, muttered a word, her eyes flashing gold, and he fell to the floor screaming. Slowly, ever so slowly, she twisted her hand, smirking as her half-brother screamed louder.

"Enough!"

Alvarr's voice was unexpected, and it seemed to rumble in the air. "Take no chances or risks," he said, and Morgana glared at him. Morgause laid a hand on her arm.

"He is right. Kill them." she said softly.

Morgana pouted, then whispered another spell, her hand still pointed at Arthur. With a soft cry, he slumped from where he had been trying to get up, laying still. His sword lay at his side, still clutched with one hand.

Silence for a moment as the knights took in what had happened.

Then Gwen screamed. She ran forwards, falling at the kings side where the other knights quickly gathered. "No," she whispered. "No."

Lancelot and Gwaine ran forwards, attacking the only way they knew. Lancelot fell almost instantly as Morgause killed him, but Alvarr seemed to want to play with Gwaine before death. They dueled, swords flashing. A deadly dance of hell. Sometimes they'd be pressed together, breathing in each other's faces, then they'd push each other back as they attacked and parried.

Dimly, Gwaine could hear someone screaming, a woman's voice. Another voice was telling her not to miss him, before it fell quiet. He heard, rather than saw, Gwen run forwards and start clawing Morgana's face. Then she, too, fell.

"He tried, Morgana, he tried. He did his best, he didn't want to kill you - he bargained with your sister to keep you alive," he heard Gaius say.

"Lies!" Morgana screeched.

Gwaine was sweating, tired, and grunting with each move. He hadn't eaten or drunk in hours, days - time had blurred into a mass of hell, while Alvarr had no doubt rested, feasted. He ducked a wide swing, side stepping at the same time, while keeping an ear open to listen to what was happening.

"He would have forgiven you!" Gaius said. "He never stopped trying to bring you back." his voice dropped, and Gwaine subconsciously stepped closer to hear better. "He loved you Morgana."

Gwaine almost stopped in shock, but forced himself to keep going. His legs and arms felt twice as heavy as they should, and he was breathing heavily.

"No!" the one-time kings ward screamed. "That's not true!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Gwaine saw Morgause begin to grow alarmed. "Calm down, sister," she said worriedly.

"NO!" Morgana screamed.

Gwaine slipped, stumbled, fell. Alvarr saw his chance and stabbed down with his sword, aiming for his heart. The sword slipped in and out with ease, making a sickening squelching noise. He closed his eyes in defeat and heard Mordred shout a spell, which was followed by a thump of a body hitting the floor. Gaius, dead. And he was following.

Alvarr seemed to think he was dead, so Gwaine kept up the act. There was no hope left for him, the wound he had received was fatal, but he wanted to know what would happen now. Most of all, he prayed for Merlin.

Heavy breathing was all he heard, with a few footsteps. Then Morgause trying to calm Morgana. The witch seemed to not listen though, as she almost hyperventilated. Then he felt the ground shaking.

_No,_ he thought, _that must be wrong. _The ground had been shaking earlier, but only as the attackers brought the city down. Surely, now they had won, they wouldn't bring the castle down with the inside?

_Oh._

It clicked. This wasn't meant to be happening; Morgana was losing control of herself, just as she had all those years ago. Morgause was trying to calm her down, to stop the young witch from killing them all.

Gwaine could only feel a grim satisfaction.

The shaking increased, becoming much worse than it had hours earlier. Arthur's throne began to move, vibrating of it's pedestal, falling down the stairs to land on it's side, where it started vibrating across the room. He even felt himself moving, his very bones shaking. Alvarr was shouting.  
"We need to get out!" he yelled. "We'll die if we stay here!"

"No," Morgause shouted back. "Morgana can stop this!"

Even Gwaine could tell that she couldn't, and he was no sorcerer. He cracked an eye open, and he saw the very walls actually wobbling. If the attackers wanted to get out alive, they needed to leave now. But Morgause was stubborn.

"Have faith!" she yelled. "She can do this!"

Alvarr shook his head, muttering something that no-one else could hear. He stood up, and headed for the door, breaking into a run. Just as he reached the exit, the doors fell off their hinges, revealing the two dead knights standing behind, and squashing Alvarr.

Morgause looked up at the ceiling. Dust was beginning to shower down, and then an actual tile fell. Deciding enough was enough, she slung her sister over her shoulder and tried to run out of the room. She almost made it. Almost.

A few metres before she reached the door, a pillar collapsed, taking a whole section of the ceiling with it.

A spray of blood misted the air, and that was all that was left above the rubble.

Gwaine was finding it hard to concentrate. Black was hovering just outside his vision, trying to coax him into falling into it. His wound was hurting more now. It seemed to yell and rage at him, though he knew it was just delirium. So this was what it was to die.

No-one would find his death significant among so many others; there was no-one who cared for him. Apart from Merlin, and who knew if he was even still alive?

Remembering something, he felt for his sword, successfully finding it. The rumbling had gotten worse; it seemed Morgana's initial earthquake had triggered a natural one. He opened both eyes, and tried to drag himself to the wall he had written on earlier. He couldn't stand, so he settled for kneeling, holding his sword with shaking hands. Sweat covered his face, creating tracks in the grime where it was running down his face in streams.

_T_. He carved in the stone. Dimly, he was aware of another pillar collapsing, quickly followed by another. He tried to work faster but found he couldn't manage it. Blood was pouring from his wound, soaking his clothes and armour. Moans escaped his lips, but he hardly noticed.

_H. E. Y. A. R. E. H. E. R. E._

His whole body was shaking and the sword fell to the ground beside him. A piece of debris hit his back, but he didn't notice as he read what he had just written.

_They are here._

He wanted to add another line, but his body wasn't obeying him anymore. His vision danced with red and green spots, and he abruptly found himself staring at the ceiling. He wanted to add, _they have come,_ but there was no way he could physically do it.

Death was coming, the dark in his mind a lot closer, and right now he would almost take it willingly. But he needed to see if Merlin would come.

It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. Once, they slipped closed, but snapped open again as the floor fell beneath him. He was falling, falling, falling, his stomach lurching. Bile rose in his throat, and he realised he was screaming. Then he hit the ground, and the cry that tore from his lips then was an unearthly sound. It came from the heart and soul.

His limbs were splayed out, and debris covered him.

He felt himself fading, but thought he heard a roar in the distance. A roar he recognised from all those years ago, when that man had saved Camelot once again. _Merlin. _Was it real? Was it his mind playing tricks on him? He hoped, prayed to god that it was real.

Tears stung his eyes, and an uncharacteristic anger took hold of him. _Where were you?_ He yelled in his mind._ Why didn't you come for us, save us? I thought you were my friend_!

Then the anger left him, and he felt nothing. It was too late now. Too late for anything except for emptiness.

_Merlin._

He was fading, fading, fading, faded.

Gone.


End file.
